Chrysalis
by Bremusa
Summary: Hermione is taken by Snatchers to Malfoy Manor, where she is exposed to the crueler side of war. Draco has been drowning in shadows for a year. To survive, they will have to wrap themselves in armor and emerge darker beings. Mature themes, warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, new readers! I'm Bremusa, and I have a huge love for Harry Potter and the darker side of the world. I plan on updating this as frequently as I can, but I'm very busy with work and school so I can't promise weekly updates. I will do what I can!

WARNINGS: Language, graphic violence: physical and sexual, rape threats. This fic will contain consensual sex, manipulated/dubious consent sex (which I see as rape, I don't like people that brush over this, sex that is not 100% consensual is rape), and non-consensual sex, in varying degrees of detail. I will always include a warning for chapters with graphic sexual encounters, and extra warnings for potentially triggering content such as non-consensual sex. There will also be torture, again in varying degrees of detail, and physical, emotional, and mental abuse. This fic takes place during a war, and I want to display the nasty, gritty side of war that we don't often see.

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**CHRYSALIS**

CH. 1

_••_

_Your life can change drastically in a moment. Everyone knows it, but no one thinks it will ever happen to them. We live like we're invincible, without a clue of how fragile we actually are._

_We don't expect that car running the red light, heading straight for us. We don't expect the back door creaking open in the middle of the night, a masked man entering with a gun or wand or knife._

_"It will never be me," we tell ourselves._

_Until it is. _

_And then it's too late to ever, ever go back._

_••_

There's a curious surreality about being on the run. There is absolutely nothing that will prepare you for it if you weren't raised to be constantly looking over your shoulder, or didn't have enough to eat. I grew up in a loving, fairly affluent family, where there was always food on the table and clothes on my back. I had a mother and father to dote on me and tuck me in at night. And then came Hogwarts, a gift I never expected, like one million desperate wishes coming true at once. Learning that I was a witch was the most amazing moment of my life.

I'd always thought I was a freak, and I didn't have many friends until Hogwarts. I scared the neighborhood children with my moments of ignorant, uncontrolled magic; turning Billy Turpin's eyebrows purple after he shoved me off the playground slide when I was six; leaping across front yards during desperate games of tag, coming four or five feet off the ground. I was that weird little Granger girl, who strange things happened to and who talked like a grown-up in a ten year old's body.

But then, _Voilà_! My letter came, and my life became magical in every meaning of the word. For six years, I was more or less happy, more or less safe.

Until Draco Malfoy brought Death Eaters into the school and Severus Snape killed the one man Voldemort feared. Now none of us are safe.

Being on the run, you start to lose yourself. Your old daily rituals are either extraneous or impossible to carry out. All of your belongings that aren't deemed a strict necessity become junk. Food is scarce, sleep is uneasy, and you are always cold. There isn't a Warming charm in the world strong enough to keep your bones from shaking. You become a ghost, both to yourself and in the eyes of your companions.

Harry and Ron were here too. Of course. Ron and I would never leave Harry, and he was given a mission by Dumbledore to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes so that he could finish him off, once and for all. And I didn't regret coming- I just felt lost in this new life. There was no comfort. Harry was too focused, too wrapped up in his own shit. I wasn't complaining, because if anyone had issues to deal with, it was that boy. Ron on the other hand, who grew surlier each day, was too focused on himself to care about what the rest of us were doing. I loved him dearly, but his selfishness was grating on me. We were all suffering.

So I think it was understandable that I kept one unnecessary item from home, if only to hold onto my sanity. I grabbed my beaded bag from my bunk and walked into the kitchen space of our tent. Harry was sitting at the table, flipping through his old scrapbook of his parents that Hagrid gave him. My throat tightened, and as I walked by I squeezed his shoulder. His eyes flickered up to mine heavily.

"Are you trading off with Ron?" He asked.

"Yes, I think he's been out there long enough," I said. "He should come in and rest. His arm still needs to heal."

I headed outside, ducking under the tent flap and shivering in the frosty forest air. My breath puffed out white around me, and I drew my cloak tighter around my body.

Ron was sitting against a tree trunk about ten feet away, and he didn't turn towards me as I walked his way, my shoes crunching dead leaves underfoot.

"Hey. Ready to rotate?" I asked in a low whisper. My voice still seemed as loud as a scream in the silent forest. It cut through the bare trees.

"Yes, I s'pose," he murmured back, still not looking at me. He was paler than usual, his vibrant red hair shaggy and starting to graze his shoulders. He was wearing the locket around his neck, its silver chain glinting coldly in the wand-light. I absentmindedly reached out and touched where it met the back of his neck and he jumped, grabbing my wrist and finally meeting my eyes. His were marked with purple crescents of fatigue, and another pang of sadness struck me.

"Ron, why don't you take the necklace off?" I ask gently, crouching next to him. He was still holding my wrist, his gaze empty and intense. Slowly, he raised his other hand towards my face. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I closed my eyes as he brushed a finger lightly across my cheek. When I opened them again, he was lifting the necklace from his neck and, turning my hand face up, let it pool in my palm. Without a word he let go and rose to head back into the tent.

I shifted over to where he was sitting, chilled to the bone by his strange touch. Although Ron may have been be grumpier than usual, he was still Ron. But just then? His eyes had been completely devoid of any warmth or feeling at all. He grazed my face without any tenderness or familiarity.

Glancing down at the Horcrux in my hand, I decided that we all needed a break from wearing it, and dropped it into my bag. As I did, my fingers bump into the whole reason I came out to trade shifts in the first place. I pulled the object from where it was securely nestled in the depths of the bag and toyed with it. Smooth glass, half-filled with transparent green liquid, complete with an antique gold atomizer. My mother's perfume. There was not a day in my life when I saw her fail to wear it. I sprayed a light mist in the air, and tears rushed to my eyes as the familiar scent surrounded me. Sweet to the point of spiciness, the fragrance brought me back home to where I'd perch on my mother's bathroom counter as a girl and watch her put on makeup for date night with my father. A touch of blush, a few sweeps of mascara, and then finally a spritz of perfume on her wrists and neck.

"This is the secret," she'd grin at me, half-joking, half-not. "This is how you wrap men around your little finger. It's as simple as having an unforgettable scent."

I suppose there could be some truth to it. Like pheromones, perfume could be the mark of an individual and invoke desire in those who associated the two. But out here in the wilderness, I wasn't exactly striving to draw anyone in. With a wry grin, I sprayed the perfume around me a few more times and closed my eyes, allowing myself to indulge in a moment of homesickness. I usually tried not to think about how much I missed my old life.

I was so caught up in thoughts of my parents and the sweet, innocent years at Hogwarts that the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping didn't immediately register to me. I assumed it was Harry or Ron coming from the tent, and as I opened my eyes to greet them I was unable to hold back a ragged gasp of horror.

Five Snatchers stood in the woods before me, just feet beyond the slightly wavering barrier of our enchantments. At my gasp, the leader's head snapped in my direction, and he took in a slow, deliberate breath.

"I know you're hidin'," he said. His voice was raspy with a sharpness like rusted nails. He took a step forward on filthy, patched-up boots. _Crunch_.

"I can _smell_ you." _Crunch._

He inhaled again.

"You smell like a Mudblood cunt." _Snap_.

"Sugary." _Crunch_.

"Sharp." Another step. He was inches away from the barrier.

"I can smell your _fear_, Mudblood. And oh, ain' you right to be afraid of what we have in store for you? All you fools that thought you could escape us."

The white cloud of his breath fanned out against the barrier, and he grinned. I clenched my wand in my hand and, as quietly as I could, set the beaded bag behind the tree and cast a silent Concealment charm over it. If he penetrated the barrier, I wouldn't let him take the Horcrux.

"Come out, come out, little Mudblood," the Snatcher crooned, raising his wand to the barrier.

I had seconds. My mind raced through all my options, but it came down to protecting Ron and Harry. I couldn't let them find Harry.

Screwing up my courage, I organized a message in my mind and cast a silent Patronus towards the door of the tent. I watched my otter swim away through the air, and felt my last bit of hope die with it. When it reached the door, I held up my hand for it to wait. I turned back towards the Snatcher, who was just opening his mouth to curse the barrier apart.

"Stop," I said in a commanding voice. I would not show them I was afraid. I would not let them win.

He paused, a sinister grin spreading over his face.

"If I come quietly, will you swear not to harm me?" I asked, rolling my neck to the side to crack it. I had no intention of coming quietly, but asking would give me the element of surprise.

"Well now, we'll be perfect gentlemen. Won't we, lads?" The Snatcher asked his companions. They nodded, laughing wolfishly. "Just come on through the enchantment, love, and we'll get this mess sorted righ' out."

Liar.

I took a deep breath, cast a final look at my my otter, hovering near the door of the tent. I nodded at it and, after it entered, performed a tricky locking charm that wouldn't let Harry or Ron out until I had magically unbarred the entrance or walked outside a fifty foot radius of the tent. Then I squared my shoulders and stepped through the barrier.

I was face to face with the lead Snatcher, and his yellow grin grew in recognition.

"Well, well. If it ain' the queen of Mudbloods herself. You got a lot of people out lookin' for you, love. Apparently you're a hard one to catch."

I gave him a glittering smile.

"Well, I would hate to disappoint."

Before he had a chance to block, I hit him hard in the face and pointed my wand towards his companions.

"_Bombarda_!"

Three were thrown back by the small explosion, and gore splattered the dead vegetation. One of the Snatchers had caught the full blast of the spell, and his torso separated from his legs. I blanched- I'd never caused anyone mortal damage before- but I was doing this to protect the one chance this world had of defeating Voldemort.

"Scabior, do something!" One of the Snatchers cried, and the leader shook his head and wiped his now-bloody nose, bringing up his wand.

"You little bitch-" he snarled, moving to curse me, but I ducked and sent a vicious Cutting hex his way. It ripped open the corner of his mouth and stretched up to his temple, and his teeth were visible through the thick flaps of skin, black with blood. He howled, abandoning his pursuit of me to hurriedly heal the wound.

The remaining Snatchers were moving in on me now, their wands forgotten as the burliest one tried to tackle me. I threw up a shield and he broke his nose on it, went cross-eyed, and promptly passed out. The others were not deterred, however. They circled me and I paced with them, strategizing my next move. Just as they rushed me, I spun in a swift circle, blazing cursed fire from my wand as I did. The Snatchers ran straight into it and completely lost their minds, stumbling away screaming through the flame. It was hard to magically extinguish fire when your wooden wand is the first thing to burn. I watched them run through the trees, their howls turning inhuman, until they toppled over and were silent. The fire around me ebbed, the forest floor charred and smoking.

Gasping for breath, I whipped around, looking for Scabior. Panic was mounting inside me as I started to realize the enormity of my actions. I had killed three men, and had no intention of slowing down yet. Gripping my wand, I steeled myself just as I heard running footsteps behind me. I turned, wand up, and there was Scabior, sprinting at me full-speed. My fear overwhelmed me when I saw the barbaric fury on his face. His cut was closed, but clearly marked with a raised purple scar that I doubted would fully heal.

In my terror, I faltered for a moment too long. Hurrying backwards, I tripped over the body of the unconscious Snatcher and Scabior took the opportunity to lunge at me. He grabbed he around the waist and, using my off-kilter balance in his advantage, slammed me against the hard ground. He landed on top of me and knocked the wind out of me. I didn't have a chance to recover as he hit me once, twice, three times across the face. I couldn't help but cry out.

"You little fuckin' Muggle cunt," Scabior growled, fighting to get a grip on my wrists. He tore my wand from my hand and threw it into the trees, and my throat grew tight. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape. He pointed his wand at my wrists and coarse rope shot from the end, twining around them so tightly it cut off my circulation. I was kicking at him, hoping to land one in his soft spot, but he forced himself between my legs and wrestled them flat.

His face, grimy and stubbly and covered in drying blood, was far too close to mine, and I was vividly aware of my vulnerability and the complete absence of space between our bodies. That seemed to be his point, as he pressed himself closer to me and suddenly buried his face in the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. My mind went blank with panic. This was not part of the plan.

Scabior drew back, his eyes full of hatred and triumph.

"I told you to be scared, didn' I? I told you to fear what we'd do to you. Well, Mudblood," he growled, punctuating the word with a quick thrust of his hips. "This is it."

"You get the fuck off me," I whispered. I'd meant to shout, but my throat was dry with fear. I expected the Cruciatus, I expected death. But not this. Why would supporters of Voldemort 'lower' themselves to fucking Muggleborns?

Scabior just gave a cruel chuckle and lowered his face back to my neck. I shuddered in disgust as he licked the side of it, his hot, putrid breath spreading out over my face, and I hated him like I'd never hated anyone in that moment.

I screamed in pain as he latched his teeth onto my pulse point and bit down, hard enough to draw blood.

He pulled back and grinned at me, my blood smeared across his mouth like macabre lipstick. "This is just the beginning, love. You don't got a fuckin' clue the shit that's comin' for you. Get used to this. It's gonna be your life."

With that, he yanked me to my feet and magicked more rope around my body until I was completely unable to move. As he grabbed the back of my neck and the arm of the unconscious Snatcher and Apparated us away, I could hear the faint shouts of Harry and Ron, still locked inside our cozy little home.

Tears were brimming in my eyes, but I hardened my heart. I did this for them. Whatever pain would come, I would not break.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up soon, I won't leave you hanging here for too long. Please drop me a review, let me know what you think!

x,

Bremusa


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Welcome back! This took me much longer to post than I originally thought I would, but I'm finally free from school and updates should be coming more quickly. Thank you _so much_ to all of my followers, favoriters, and especially my reviewers! I am so thankful for all of your input and warmth, and I hope that I can continue to please you with this story. Special thanks to camillablue, who pointed out a grammatical error I hadn't caught, I really appreciate it! I want the reading of this to be smooth for you all. And to answer Sam Wallflower's question of "Is this going to be Dramione?" I can say... You'll see. (But yes!)

Again, thanks for coming back and reading more, you guys are wonderful and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings for this chapter: Language, implied sexual violence, explicit torture.

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CH. 2

••

When I opened my eyes, my stomach still twisting from the bumpy Apparation, we were standing in front of a large, ornate black gate. Behind it was a long, decorated lane that led to an enormous mansion, in front of which were several peacocks tethered to the porch. I swallowed hard, thinking back to the Quidditch World Cup and a lavish tent complete with the same peacocks.

This was Malfoy Manor.

Scabior let go of me to roughly awaken his companion, and I swayed on the spot, my adrenaline rush starting to fade. Even as my energy left my body, I could feel my heart pumping faster as panic set in. I swallowed hard and centered myself. Whatever was coming would not be pleasant, but I had to endure it to keep the boys safe. My boys. I would not reveal their location- though I hoped they'd listened to the instructions in my Patronus and moved the damn campsite- nor would I divulge Harry's quest to destroy the Horcruxes. The less Voldemort knew, the better.

As the other Snatcher picked himself up off the ground, scowling at me and grumbling under his breath, someone hurried down the long path towards the gate. Apparently our arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, and I guessed that the Manor had the most extensive protection charms placed on it as were possible. As the person drew level with us, I sucked in a gasp. It was Blaise Zabini, a boy from Slytherin in my year. We had never gotten on very well- he was a pureblood fanatic with a venomous tongue, and I was me, a wholly unashamed Muggleborn.

Zabini's eyes widened when he saw who Scabior had brought. The Snatcher grabbed the hair at the nape of my neck and wrenched my head up as I flinched.

"Is this one of any interest to you? 'Cause if not, I owe 'er a little pain." Scabior said, smugness saturating his tone. He knew I was valuable. He would get a nice, fat payoff for bringing me in.

Blaise hurried to open the gate and motioned for us to follow him. Scabior had to drag me, his arm around my waist, since he'd bound my legs and ankles. He didn't seem to mind, grinning down at me with lecherous eyes as I shuddered, bile rising in my throat. His threat in the forest was very fresh in my mind, and my neck was aching from his bite.

We came to the front door and, with an undecipherable, tight look at me, Blaise opened it and led us into the manor. Despite my growing terror, I couldn't help but be astounded by its obvious, stately wealth. The floor was marble, the columns had intricate serpent and floral carvings, and the space was absolutely huge. Being in the front hall was like being in a cathedral. Above me I could just barely see a crystal chandelier, glinting through the darkness.

"It's a nice place, love, but this ain't the part you'll be seein'," Scabior whispered in my ear before pulling me after Blaise. He'd just turned into a room, from which a fire was throwing shadows on the hallway walls. Nausea washed over me as the incredible danger of my situation struck home. I would most likely never see the outside of this manor again. I would most likely be dead in an hour.

We turned the corner and came to what seemed to be the parlor. I could tell it had once been decadently decorated, but the floor was scuffed from the marks of many feet, heavy curtains were shut so the only light came from the enormous fireplace on the opposite wall, and a thin layer of dust coated all the furniture that was pushed to the sides of the vast room. There was a slightly stale scent to the room, as if everyone in it had been holding their breath for years. Maybe they had. It couldn't be very easy to enjoy your home when the Dark Lord set up camp there.

There were three figures at the back of the room. One, a slash of black with platinum hair, was leaning against the fireplace, turned away from us. Another was sitting in an armchair idly fingering a familiar cane, absent of its usual snake-head. The third, slim with wild long hair, was pacing around with a frenzied energy. Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange. I could have perished from fear right then and there. Blaise cleared his throat, and they looked over to us.

"The Snatchers found her. Granger." He said, and Lucius immediately jumped up from his chair. The last time I saw him at the Ministry, he was stately and proud, fully confident that he would succeed in his mission. But now he was a wasted husk of his former self, with dark circles under his eyes, dull hair, and hollowed out cheeks.

Bellatrix glided swiftly over to me, her mad eyes shining with glee. She was more ragged than she was at the Ministry as well, but had retained her proud- if insane- aura. She grabbed my chin with cold hands and wrenched my head from side to side.

"You're sure it's her?" Bellatrix whispered in a voice like broken glass, stepping uncomfortably close to me. I was pressed between her and Scabior, and the room was starting to blur at the edges. Gray was bleeding into my peripheral vision, and I knew I was starting to dissociate, something I only ever did in moments of intense anxiety. I tried to calm my breathing. A panic attack would be very, very bad for me if I wanted to keep my mind strong against Legilimency.

"Oh, it's 'er alrigh'," Scabior interjected, pride in his voice. "She gave us a helluva time, tryin' to snatch 'er- killed three of my men, cut me up." He gestured at his swollen, scarred face. "A Mudblood she may be, but damned crafty with a wand."

Lucius grabbed Draco by the arm and led him over to us, pushing Bellatrix out of the way. She hissed a low oath at him, but his wasted eyes didn't move from my face.

"Draco, come, make sure," Lucius urged him. "You've known the Granger girl for years, we need to be positive before we summon the Dark Lord."

I felt like the world was teetering on the point of a knife, and I was going to shatter with it when it fell. Draco Malfoy, the first person to call me Mudblood, my childhood tormentor. He wouldn't look me in the eyes, and I could hear him swallow dryly.

I held my breath as Draco nodded and looked up. His eyes had deep purple marks under them, their expression dead. He looked tired. This was a boy forced to grow up too quickly, I knew the look far too well. Ron and Harry carried it wherever they went. I stared unflinchingly back at him, trying to ignore the whooshing in my ears and the pounding of my heart.

"I don't know," Draco murmured. "I mean, it looks like kind of like her, but her hair's longer... She's thinner, too. Starved."

I was stunned- there was no way he hadn't recognized me. Was he trying to help? Or did he just not want to be complicit in my harm?

"You have to be _sure_, Draco, come now, you must remember her from school, you've known her since you were eleven!" Bellatrix said excitedly. She was panting slightly, her eyes glinting. I remembered her ardor for Voldemort at the Ministry, years ago- she must be rapturous, now that her master was openly resurrected.

"I-I guess, yeah. It's her."

I closed my eyes as Bellatrix began to laugh with a terrifying, almost childish delight. Draco cleared his throat and I heard him step away. Opening my eyes I saw Lucius roll up his sleeve, ready to call Voldemort, when Scabior interrupted.

"Hang on, now," he said, pulling me back towards him. "Me an' my associate here would like our reward." Scabior's arm locked around my waist and a wave of repulsion washed over me. If only I wasn't bound- If only I had my wand-

"You'll get your payment when the Dark Lord arrives, Snatcher," Bellatrix hissed. "He'll want to know where you found the girl. She's known to be traveling with Potter." She took a small step towards us, fingering her wand.

"I found 'er in the Forest o' Dean, an' she was alone."

"Did you see her encampment? Where she was sheltering?"

"No, she 'ad protection charms around 'er and she voluntarily came out when she was caught, but we was pretty loud when we fought. From what I know abou' Potter, he wouldn' have ignored 'er screamin', would he?"

Lucius's eye was twitching slightly and he rolled his sleeve back down. Striding forward, he grabbed Scabior's shoulder and spoke darkly.

"Despite the Mudblood's inhuman standing," he said with a loathing-filled glare at me, inches from my face, "she is one of the most accomplished students Hogwarts has churned out in the past few years. She is more than capable of hiding Potter away. You didn't find it at all suspicious that she was alone? That she just walked up to you?"

Scabior wrenched himself out of Lucius's grip, stepping backwards and taking me with him. My breathing hitched in my throat as the back of my head smacked against his shoulder. "She didn' exactly give 'erself up, I told you she fought like a bitch and took out three of my men-"

"You fool! She is the embodiment of those thrice-damned Gryffindor values! I bet you anything she was sacrificing herself and distracting you to keep Potter safe!"

Yes, that was exactly what I'd done. However, I wasn't going to volunteer that information.

Unfortunately, Lucius seemed to realize that I was the only person in the room able to answer all of his questions. He wheeled on me, grabbing my arm and overcoming Scabior's resistance. Throwing me on the marble floor with a painful jolt, he seized a fistful of my hair and yanked my upper body off the ground. I couldn't stop myself from crying out and screwing my face up in pain, despite my promise to myself that I would not show weakness.

"Where is Potter? I _know_ you were with him. WHERE IS HE?" Lucius roared, his gray eyes mad with anger and fear. I wasn't of much use to Voldemort without Harry attached to my hip, and he knew it.

"Do you really think I'd tell you? You may as well kill me now. I won't talk." I hissed back, and then I did something really stupid. I spat in Lucius Malfoy's precious, pureblood face.

Bellatrix screamed curses at me, sounding quite similar to her aunt's portrait at Grimmauld Place. Scabior let out a high, astonished laugh. Draco said nothing, but his eyes flickered to his father with what I thought was a hint of apprehension.

Very slowly, Lucius raised the sleeve of his robe and wiped at his cheek. His expression had completely closed off, giving up no emotion. He drew his wand and, with an almost casual flick, sent a jet of red light at me.

I was in hell, and hell was on fire. There was nothing but the fire- the scorching heat, the blistering pain, the way my skin was surely charring away to bone, the bone crumbling to ash, the ash turning to dust. Nothing could withstand this. And yet the flames burned on.

I'm sure I would have been screaming, but a pile of ash has no voice to scream with.

When Lucius finally lifted the curse, I was on my side, staring at the cold floor. My clothes were torn and I had livid scratch marks all over my arms and face. My nails were ragged and bleeding, and my throat was raw. In my agony I'd torn at myself and my clothes, trying to rid myself of the invisible flame.

Footsteps sounded close by my head, and two booted feet came sideways into my view. I couldn't even move my head to look at who it was, but he saved me the trouble. Draco crouched down on the ground next to me, fingers reaching for my wrist. I tried to move away but was immobilized, aftershocks of the burn still coursing through my body.

"Her pulse is too fast," he murmured, keeping his eyes low. "I think you should stop, Father." Draco dropped my wrist and stood back up, avoiding my gaze.

There was silence. Then, a whoosh through the air, a heavy thud, and my own ragged shout of pain. Lucius had kicked me in the stomach, and I dry-heaved over the expensive marble floors.

"Everyone out," He growled. "Draco, Blaise. Bellatrix. _Snatchers_. I'll deal with you in a moment. _Out_."

There was an annoyed sigh, but footsteps scuffed across the floor and soon it was silent, except for Lucius's furious panting.

I heard the swish of his wand and was yanked magically to my feet, wincing as my scratches pulled. Lucius paced like a lion in front of me, sizing me up. Suddenly he stopped, and the anger cleared from his face. He was calm, completely expressionless, and it scared me more than his rage. His ability to flip back and forth between high emotion and numbness was startling, and I feared what was to come from this closed-off Death Eater. As he locked his eyes on mine, I felt an intrusive bristle at the back of my mind.

_You know who you're doing this for_, I reminded myself. _Do not give in. Close your mind._

I centered myself, taking a breath, and threw up my mental shields. No one would penetrate my mind. No one would know where Harry was, or what he was hunting. I was determined of it.

Lucius's face twitched slightly when he couldn't access my thoughts, but he didn't lose his mask. He stalked closer to me, still meeting my gaze.

"Do you think, Mudblood, that such resistance is bravery?" Lucius whispered, stopping a foot away from where I was, still locked in a standing position.

"Do you think that it _matters_? I will have my answers in the end, and there are two ways of getting them. One- you tell me. You save yourself from excruciating pain and humiliation, and we dispose of you quickly. Two- I drag them out of you. I will beat you until you're black and blue, skin you alive, set a horde of drunken Death Eaters on you, subject you to horrors you can scarcely imagine, and just as you begin to die, I will heal you and repeat the process. Once you've told me everything I want to know, I will kill you so slowly and painfully it will pale in comparison to what you've endured already. Either way, Mudblood, you answer my questions and you die. You can do so with pride and agony, or with quiet, painless submission."

Lucius reached out a hand and stroked his index finger down my cheek. It came away bloody, and he examined it with curiosity for a moment before wiping it on my shirt. His eyes were hard. Steel. Compassionless.

"So, Mudblood. What will it be?"

I smiled the most mirthless smile that would ever cross my lips. I was so terrified that without Lucius's spell, I would be quivering on the floor. I did not want to die. I did not want to be tortured. I did not want this, I did not want this, I did not.

"Give me your worst, Malfoy."

He rolled up his left sleeve, and I screamed inside as he pressed his finger to the Dark Mark.

With a smirk, he leaned close and spat in my face.

"Oh, I intend to."

* * *

This was shorter than I had intended it to be, but I'm working on the next chapter already and hope to post it within the next few days. Things will start getting interesting here soon, I promise, I just want to have a nice thorough setup!

Thank you so much for reading, and I would love to know your thoughts so if you have the time and energy, drop me a review!

x,

Bremusa


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi guys! Well, I guess I was a little off when I said I'd have the next chapter up in a few days. My life sort of exploded- I graduated, got another job, moved for college, went through formal sorority recruitment, and have just finished settling into my dorm. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update, but I'm hoping I can churn out some chapters at least semi-regularly for you!

Another note: My interpretations of these characters are going to be different from the books. I mean, of course I want them to be in character as well as I can make them, but I'm twisting them into shapes that fit a little better. Like a superhero Gritty Reboot™. Just a reminder, because if you haven't had a thought of "This doesn't really seem like [ ]" yet, you probably will.

In the same sort of vein, I'm introducing Draco's perspective this chapter! I debated on whether or not to include it in this fic or make it a standalone thing, but I'm too impatient to wait, so here he is! You'll get a little recap before the "fun" really starts.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! You rock!

Warnings for this chapter: language, **EXPLICIT TORTURE**, implied sexual violence. It doesn't last for too long, but this one's going to get pretty graphic, so be careful reading if that's something that really gets under your skin or triggers you.

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CH. 3

••

_Draco_

When I was young, my father read to me every night from a huge book of mythology. It was leather-bound, deep purple, and thicker than I was. He read to me of Norse gods, of Mjölnir being taken by Thrym, and Thor retrieving it dressed as a bride. I learned of Seth, his envy of Osiris, his hatred for wise Isis. I was amazed by all the Greek and Roman gods and their twisted ways, inspired by the heroes and monsters and huntresses. Helen, who caused the deaths of thousands without lifting a hand. Mars, reveling in the blood of men. Vesta, waiting for her immortal family to come home. Daphne, doing everything in her power to avoid the embrace of a god. And Daedalus, who dreamt of stars and wax and fire, who tried to share his aspirations with his son. But for all his efforts and exhaustion, Icarus ended up dead.

I've found myself thinking frequently about Daedalus in the past few years. The stately man, the genius, with a shining view of his world that other's couldn't quite see. He believed in what he did and tried to pass it down to his heir, only to have him end up dead at his feet.

I wonder- will I fall under my own father's delusions?

Or will I survive the flight to freedom?

••

My home was in ruins. The warmth and gaiety that used to fill the halls was gone, replaced by an alien coldness. My family walked through the manor like ghosts, pale and thin, nearing transparency. My father looked like a wretch, scraggly and graying, with no resemblance to his former self. My mother was numb to the world, quiet and tense, waiting on edge to protect me if a situation arose.

Every day I woke up in my bedroom, I wanted to blast apart the walls and let the rubble of the damned estate rain down on us all. I couldn't handle it. Where my family was emotionless, I had never felt more alive. More terrified. I was aware of every heartbeat, every sharp breath, ever creak and scuff across the floor. I was waiting to die at any given moment. I was as good as dead already.

That is the price you pay when your house is offered as headquarters for the Dark Lord.

Of course, _I_ had no say in this. In any of this damn mess.

I thought I was as deeply entrenched in Hell as you could get, but a bloodied, silent, wild-eyed Hermione Granger being dragged into my living room threw that lie into stark relief.

_ Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit! _No way was I prepared for the sight of Granger, but the Snatcher holding her struggling body was an even bigger shock. His neck and collar were covered in blood, fresh blood, and he had a huge scar across his face that looked recently healed. The other Snatcher trailed behind the bloody wizard and Granger, shooting her nervous looks and fingering his wand.

"The Snatchers found her. Granger." Blaise addressed my father, then met my gaze. His eyes were wide and apprehensive. He probably felt the same shock I did.

My aunt went over to Granger and inspected her before my father shoved her away and beckoned to me.

"Draco, come, make sure. You've known the Granger girl for years, we need to be positive before we summon the Dark Lord."

No. No, that was asking too much, this was _too much_. Granger and I weren't friends, weren't even civil- but if I identified her as who she was, it would be like I was signing a warrant for her death.

I went to her slowly, feeling as if I was walking to my own execution. I leveled with her, watching how she still tensely resisted the Snatcher's bruising, intimate hold. I didn't want to meet her eyes, but my father cleared his throat when I just stood there silently.

Her gaze was painful to meet. She stared right back at me, unflinching as always, despite her blatant fear. My father cleared his throat again.

"I don't know," I said. "I mean, it looks kind of like her, but her hair's longer… She's thinner, too. Starved." It wasn't a lie. She didn't look like the rosy-cheeked and confident Granger I'd known and loathed for six years. She looked like a mountain lion that had been shot but not killed, with blood matted in its fur and sharp fangs hidden just out of sight.

Granger seemed surprised that I hadn't revealed her, and I couldn't blame her. She only knew my cruelty.

Bellatrix, however, was not having any of my evasion, and my stomach twisted as she spoke. "You have to be _sure_, Draco, come now, you must remember her from school, you've known her since you were eleven!"

My father's hand clapped onto my shoulder, giving me a firm squeeze. Granger's eyes hardened. Chocolate diamonds. This wasn't a facade I could maintain.

"I-I guess, yeah. It's her."

Granger closed her eyes and I stepped back, numbness spreading over me. Christ, shit, fuck. The executioner steps from the gallows, the body swinging behind him.

I stood in a haze, silent and watchful, as my father questioned the Snatcher. I tensed when he wrenched away from Father, taking Granger with him, his arms still locked around her. She hissed when she hit her head on his shoulder, and I flinched. Granger in my living room, Granger in ratty torn clothes rather than her uniform, Granger battered and on her way to emaciated. It was too surreal.

The room tilted when my father pulled her from the Snatcher's grasp and hurled her to the floor before hauling her up to him by her hair, screaming for information.

"WHERE IS HE?" Oh, yes, that's right. Potter, this was about Potter, Granger didn't matter after all. A casualty, a mudblood. I had to restrain myself from stepping forward and untangling her curls from Father's fist. The world was skewed. I think my breathing was shallow. No one noticed, except perhaps Blaise.

And then Hermione Granger did something that turned my blood cold, something that my father would have killed over in any other situation. She glared right back at him, told him she would never talk, and spat in his face- saliva and blood.

I looked to my father and felt a thrill of fear. His face was completely empty, and I knew from personal experience that was when he was at his deadliest.

Screams followed the red light of the Cruciatus, and I watched in frozen horror as Granger writhed on the floor, tearing at her clothes, her flesh. Welts appeared on her neck and blood welled on her cheek. I started forward without realizing what I was doing, and my father lifted his curse, watching me. I crouched on the ground next to Granger and picked up her wrist- _fragile, bruised, smeared with blood_\- to feel her racing heartbeat.

"Her pulse is too fast," I said as casually as I could, avoiding her face. She was panting, the edge of a moan creeping into her voice. "I think you should stop, Father."

I retreated, and my father looked me in the eyes as he kicked Granger in the stomach. He didn't look away as she vomited on the floor.

"Everyone out. Draco, Blaise. Bellatrix. _Snatchers_. I'll deal with you in a moment. _Out_." My father's command was uneasily but unquestionably accepted, and we all hurried from the room. I paused in the doorway and glanced behind me. Granger was on her feet, staring down my father. Her gaze did not waver.

••

_Hermione_

Cold floor.

My hair splayed out over the marble like vines reaching for the sun.

Body aching, cheek throbbing from the blow that landed me on the ground.

My tense, triumphant torturer, pacing in front of me with a mixture of fear and glee on his face.

These were the last things I would experience before I died.

I felt both ancient and like a child. I wanted my mother's reassurance, my father's embrace. When I was young, I believed nothing could ever hurt me as long as I was hiding in my parent's arms. Even though I craved their comfort, I was relieved they weren't here with me or anywhere the Death Eaters could find them. I had protected them like they did throughout my childhood. I gave them the bittersweet gift of amnesia so that they would never mourn for their daughter, who was to be just another casualty of a damnably uneven war.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard footsteps running towards the room. Bellatrix burst in, panting and clutching her arm, with Draco, Blaise, and the Snatchers trailing after her. I struggled to my feet, swaying and stumbling when the room pitched sideways. Draco took a halting step in my direction before drawing back abruptly. He cleared his throat, looking at a spot about a foot to the right of my head. Detachedly, I wondered if any other Hogwarts students from our year had been killed in Draco Malfoy's parlor. Bellatrix ignored his awkwardness and strode over to Lucius, pulling up her left sleeve to expose her writhing Dark Mark.

"You called him?" Bellatrix asked Lucius, excitement in her low voice. He nodded and turned to Scabior.

"Your services have been highly appreciated, and should be equally awarded. Here," Lucius said, walking over to an armoire, partially hidden in the shadows of the dark room. He withdrew two heavy-looking velvet sacks that jingled with the sound of coins. He tossed one to Scabior and the other to his partner.

"One thousand Galleons each."

Scabior opened the bag and rummaged through it greedily. The other Snatcher, who kept looking sideways at Bellatrix and her exposed Dark Mark, nodded at Lucius and disappeared down the hallway.

"Before you leave," Lucius addressed Scabior, "I have a proposition for you. Your services may be needed again. If offered, they will lead to you doubling that reward. Any interest?"

Scabior looked over at me, a slow grin spreading over his face, twisting the grotesque scar on his cheek.

"If it involves payin' 'er back, I'm there. Pleasure doin' business, Mr. Malfoy." Scabior shook his hand and turned to leave the room, blowing a mocking kiss in my direction as he did so. I shivered, glad to see him go. Of course, the human incarnate of evil was on his way, and Scabior seemed like Molly Weasley in comparison.

"Well, now that the riffraff have gone, we can get ready," Bellatrix said, whipping out her wand and stalking towards me. I lurched away from her in vain. My back hit the wall, and she laughed.

"Nowhere to run to, little Mudblood."

She traced her wand across my face, down my neck, pushing it painfully into the bend where throat meets shoulder.

"When the Dark Lord arrives, you will be cooperative. He is honoring you with his presence, Mudblood, and you will not show obstinacy! If you do, you _will_ be punished." Bellatrix threw a mirthful grin over her shoulder at the pacing Lucius. "And that would be very pleasurable for everyone present, I assure you."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the wall, conjuring a wooden chair and pushing me into it, rope shooting from her wand to wrap around my appendages, tying them to the arms and legs of the chair. I shouted, kicked, thrashed, but it was no use. I wasn't going to escape this time.

In the past I'd always managed to slip out of dangerous situations. I hadn't always come away completely unharmed- especially in my first face-to-face encounter with Death Eaters- but I had always survived. The rational part of my mind knew that I was going to die, but the part that was screaming hadn't quite accepted that truth.

Maybe that was why I searched for Draco in the slightly-spinning room and locked my gaze with his. My panic was mirrored in his eyes, and in that moment he wasn't my childhood enemy. We were both just scared kids. We should have been in school, annoying the shit out of each other and tossing petty insults back and forth in Potions. Instead I was about to be murdered in his house- _his house, not his home, because the near-tangible evil that seeped through the cracks in the walls had to have violated any feeling of comfortable familiarity, any aura of safety_\- and he would probably have to scrub my blood off of the marble floor when it was all over.

"_Help me_." I whispered it so softly that there was no way anyone could have heard me, but I could tell by the jerk of his jaw that Draco knew what I'd said. Before he could have responded, if he would have done so at all, there was a raspy, slithery noise from the hall. Everyone's heads snapped towards the door, and my breath caught in my throat as an enormous viper wound its way into the room. There was the otherworldly stillness that catches the air before a sudden downpour of rain, and the only sound in the room was that of my heart beating frantically against my chest.

The Dark Lord swept around the corner through the doorway and paused as everyone in the room dropped immediately onto one knee, bowing their heads. I gaped openly, unable to hide my absolute terror when his eyes- the color of ruby blood weeping from a fresh wound, not horrible in and of itself but completely _wrong_ in his wasted face- met mine. His stare was disconnected, cold, with a hard glimmer of triumph. He blinked, and I thought for a second I caught a flash of emerald around the cat-like pupils, and my stomach dropped as I realized that Harry would be privy to every painful thing that was about to happen.

"Well," Voldemort said, an amused note in his desiccated voice, "we _are_ far from home, aren't we, Miss Granger?"

••

_Draco_

Every time I heard that voice in my home, a piece of me died. The Dark Lord swept into the room, bare feet on the floors, and revulsion rose like bile in my throat. I fought to keep my face clear of emotion and my head bent respectfully as the snakelike man glided toward me and my father. He stretched out his hand, the white, spidery thing, and I held in a shudder as it mockingly stroked my head. I saw him put his hand on my father's shoulder out of the corner of my eye, rest it on Blaise's head, and finally walk to Bellatrix, who was quite literally quivering with excitement. We were not to look at nor speak to him before he allowed it, and she could barely contain herself. The Dark Lord put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, up, up, until she was standing before him with blazing rapture on her face.

"My Lord," Bellatrix breathed, smiling as his hand moved to cup her face, "we are thrilled to finally present the mudblood to you."

"Finally, indeed," he murmured, and Bella's smile dropped, "but I cannot pretend this is not a happy day for us."

We all stood as he made his way over to Hermione, and I could see how badly she wanted to look dauntless. She was failing, but the fact that she was still staring down the holy terror of the wizarding world was impressive.

Nagini wound her way up Hermione's shins, the back of the chair, and around her torso, coming to rest in Hermione's lap. She struggled to stay still as the snake tightened itself around her waist.

Voldemort bent down until he was at eye level with Hermione. She shrank back, and my stomach dropped at the thought of _him_ that close to me with no way to escape. Blaise came to stand next to me and nudged my arm with his. I turned to look at him and his face was tense, filled with warning. _Stay calm. Stay cold. Stone, marble, emerald. Get through this. Getting killed helps no one._

"So, Miss Granger, how did you come to be here all by your lonesome?" Voldemort asked, a purr in his voice. It was disgusting- he was playing with his food.

"The Mudblood was brought to us by two Snatchers, Master. She was said to be alone when they captured her, but they did not do a thorough search of the area once she was apprehended. Apparently, she killed several of their men. She certainly did a number on Scabior, the leader."

Father's voice was carefully structured- silky and respectful, with just a hint of his old pride.

The Dark Lord stepped away from Hermione, pleased surprise on his face. "She killed? Maybe she's not as soft as she appears. All the more fun to break her, then. Draco," he gestured for me to join him, and I moved forward with my eyes averted. Voldemort put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to face Hermione with irrefutable strength.

"Now, Draco. Miss Granger here is an… Old friend of yours, is that right?" He was teasing, venom in his words.

I shook my head, looked at the floor. Anywhere but him. Anywhere but her.

"Ah, so this isn't the happy reunion I thought it would be? What a shame. Well, if you have animosity between you, maybe it would be best to let some of that out. Hm?"

He stood behind me, both hands on my shoulders, a perverse inversion of a father standing proud behind his son.

"I want her to tell me where Harry Potter is hiding, Draco. And I want you to help her do so."

••

_Hermione_

I tried to keep my composure, I truly did. I knew Harry was watching, either in his fitful sleep or a headache-inducing vision, and he was undoubtedly blaming himself for my capture, and I didn't want him to see how scared I was. _If he could get an idea of where I was, however, maybe he could team up with the Order to come and_-

_No_. I should not have been hoping for the Order to show up when Voldemort was standing in front of me. I was going to die, dammit, and I needed to get over myself. There was more at stake here than just my life. The safety of the boys, of the Order, the locations of safe houses and identities of spies. I had to hold it together.

So as Nagini squeezed tight around me, as Voldemort attempted to penetrate my mind, I wiped my thoughts clean like chalk on a blackboard and wrote out the instructions to brewing Polyjuice potion in my mind.

Lucius stepped forward to explain who had brought me to them, and my throat tightened when he mentioned me killing the Snatchers. Oh, Christ, I was going to die in agonizing pain and then go to hell, if my what my grandmother believed of religion was true.

Voldemort finally stepped away from me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. He brought Draco forward, holding onto him with some kind of twisted affection. I closed my eyes, my head swimming with anxiety and exhaustion. How long could a person last when they were this scared before their heart gave out?

"I want her to tell me where Harry Potter is hiding, Draco. And I want you to help her do so."

My eyes snapped open and met Draco's. He looked frightened, awkward, and a little nauseated.

"You want _Draco Malfoy_ to torture me for information?" I exclaimed without thinking. Bellatrix shrieked, "_Watch your mouth!_" and Nagini constricted tighter around my torso. I gasped, breathless, trying to shake her off, but all I could do was thrash back and forth as I was both tied with rope and held down under her weight.

"The more you struggle, Mudblood, the tighter Nagini holds on." Voldemort's voice was silky, dangerous. He pushed Draco forward until he was an arm's length away from me.

"Go on, Draco. Ask her. And if she does not deliver a satisfactory answer, _make her_." Voldemort retreated to the other side of the room, motioning for Bellatrix to join him at his side. Her beautiful, wasted face was alight with anticipation. Lucius was composed, but had a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. Blaise looked bored. And Draco, standing in front of me, looked as scared as I felt.

He raised his wand and pointed it at me, holding it loosely in his hand. "Where's Potter?" Draco murmured, a pleading edge to his voice. Oh, God. Oh, Christ, he was going to have to curse me.

I looked around him to where Voldemort stood and tried to keep my voice from shaking. "I'm not going to say. You know I'm not. I can't. So you might as well skip the warm-up and bring out the big guns."

The Dark Lord sneered. "Draco, the Mudblood is not delivering a _satisfactory answer_. Start with the Cruciatus."

Draco gripped his wand tighter in his hand and I flinched, looking up into his face. His eyes were steeled, and I braced myself for a return of the terrible burning.

"_Scream_," He mouthed, and before my face could give away any confusion, Draco shot a beam of red light at me- and it missed.

I screamed as hard as I could, writhing in the chair underneath the dead weight of the snake, and tears welled up in my eyes because _dammit_ I was so scared, so scared that we'd be found out, and Draco Malfoy was helping me, _he was defying Voldemort while standing not ten feet away from him_, and I was almost too terrified to be grateful.

When he made a show of jerking his wand away from me I shut up and dropped my head, panting as loudly as I could.

"Good, Draco," Voldemort said, clapping lazily as Bellatrix tittered. "Very good. Now, ask her again."

"Where is he?" Draco asked, forceful and wide-eyed. There was sweat on his brow, and I knew he was risking his life right now to help me.

"I won't say." This wasn't going to end. There was a limit to how much he could pretend to hurt me. He was going to have to cross a line.

Draco raised his wand and gave me a slight nod, and I prepared to scream, when Lucius interrupted.

"Master, forgive me, but I wonder if _I_ might have a turn with the Mudblood? She offended me quite grievously earlier, and I would be appreciative of a chance to show Draco how best to interrogate a subject."

There was a pause while Draco and I stared at each other, unmoving, and I felt the world spin away from me.

"If you can make it quick, Lucius, I don't see the harm."

The blood drained from my face and I started to hyperventilate, unable to control myself. Lucius Malfoy had already inflicted more pain on me than I'd ever known in one night, and it wasn't over yet.

Harry. Harry was watching. I tried to picture him in the tent, laughing and scraping together dinner with Ron, being struck by a sudden vision of a terrified me. I wasn't going to do that to him, or to the Order. I was going to Gryffindor up, I was going to be strong, and I was going to protect them _all_.

Lucius stepped forward, moving to stand next to his son. Malfoy junior and senior, both heads capped with platinum, slashes white against black robes.

"Now, Draco, the Cruciatus is a good starting place, but it's easy to resist. You see, a person can handle being bombarded with pain- not every person, mind, but stubborn creatures like the Mudblood here can build themselves up in their minds to become some sort of noble martyr. What you want to do," he drawled, rolling back his sleeves and pointing his wand at me with a flourish, "is horrify them. On the deepest level you can, you need to desecrate their bodies, their very souls."

"Observe."

Lucius flicked his wand and the tops of my arms, tied to the chair, began to burn. It was a revolting sensation, like the skin was being tugged at until it split- and then I realized, as blood began to weep fast and red through the sleeves of my shirt, that that was _exactly_ what was happening. I let out a sickened moan and grit my teeth, trying to hold back a scream. _Be strong, it's only a little pain. There are worse things._

I was terrible at lying to myself. Oh, Christ, it was horrific, and it continued all the way up to my shoulders. I was sobbing in pain by the time he stopped. My sleeves were soaked in blood, and Lucius magicked them away. What lay beneath was horrifying. My skin was curled up and peeled back away from the muscle in a thick vertical line, torn and almost charred-looking, covered in dark blood that had yet to oxidize in the open air. It was like something out of a Muggle horror movie, and I had to fight to not vomit again.

"You're twisted," I bit out, glaring at Lucius with more hatred than I thought I was capable of feeling. Bellatrix giggled somewhere in the blackness.

"Very good, Lucius, very good." Voldemort said approvingly, bringing a hand up to rest thoughtfully against his chin. "But can you take it further? She doesn't seem to be screaming out answers yet."

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius gave a short bow and cleared his throat before drawing his son closer to him, to me. Draco had edged away while Lucius had methodically ripped open my arms, and his face was completely colorless. I felt pressure against my arm and looked down in horror to see Nagini's tongue flick out where blood had pooled near the crook of my elbow. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying and failing to think of anything but my mangled flesh.

"You see how she's crying, Draco? This is exactly what you want. This is the kind of things lesser people have nightmares about. You want to bring that to life."

_My God, he was evil._

"But we can go further, much further. The Mudblood isn't looking at us, is she? How very rude. We _are_ trying to have a discussion with her. Mudblood," Lucius barked, grabbing my chin and yanking my head up. I opened my eyes hazily, unable to see clearly through my tears.

"You will look at me when I speak to you. Now, are you ready to tell us where Potter is?"

I shook my head, not trusting myself to open my mouth. I closed my eyes again, trying desperately to ignore the man in front of me.

"I told you to look at me when I speak to you, you damnable creature, but apparently you are incapable of doing so. Let me _help_ you," Lucius growled, and I braced myself when I heard the swish of his wand.

Two things happened at once.

There was a hot stinging pain from my eyes, and I became aware of a strange, sticky sensation. Then there was a stomach-dropping feeling of _unpeeling_, and suddenly I was staring into my lap through a red film.

Two red semicircles lay on Nagini's scales, and drops of blood were falling on top of the garnet armor.

I realized that I was screaming, a frightful high-pitched keen I didn't know could physically create.

"Merlin…" I heard Blaise utter from the corner of the room. I don't know how I could hear anything over my screams. I was petrified to my core, my sanity unwinding into gossamer strands as thin as a spider's web.

There was a fist tangled in my hair and it didn't even hurt when he yanked my head up, I had lost it, I was gone-

Lucius was nose-to-nose with me, a broad grin on his face.

"Now you see, Mudblood," he breathed, and my scream cut off into a guttural sob. "Now you see what we'll do to you if you don't abide by our rules."

He whispered a quick spell, bringing up a silver-backed hand mirror in front of my face. I choked on my breath, _no_, I didn't want to know, I would never survive this-

"Don't you ever forget what we can do."

Lucius flipped the mirror, and I was staring into my own face, and Jesus fucking Christ I was wearing a mask of blood, and there was too much white, and as I floated away from my body I heard Voldemort's laugh, high and sibilant, twisting with the hiss of the snake.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! I know a lot of that seemed like Hermione giving herself a pep talk and might have gotten repetitive, but c'mon- the girl thought she was going to die in agony after damning her best friends and the Order. I know I would have to develop some sort of mantra!

I adore each and every one of you who took the time to read, I've been working on this on and off for a couple months and a LOT the past few days, and I'd be so grateful if you dropped a review to let me know your thoughts!

I am already working on the next chapter and it picks up right where we left off, and I'm hoping to work Narcissa in at some point of it. Where the hell is she? She's been hiding from me so far, I swear. Anyway, the next chapter will be posted ASAP, I swear it on my recently dead dog (sob). I love y'all!

Until next time,

Bremusa


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